The Only Language He Understands
by faite-comme-moi
Summary: Trying to make the case for taking their relationship exclusive, Blair uses the only language Chuck truly understands. Rated M because, well, Blair and Chucks whole relationship is. One-shot


Blair gives him a scathing glare, "I don't understand what you see in those whores, Bass." They're sitting together in Chuck's suite. No, not exactly together. In the same room would be more precise. Blair wonders, again, why she bothered to visit this morning.

Chuck's response is bored, detached, his mind elsewhere. "This is not a conversation worth having, Waldorf."

She sizes up his mood and decides on a different tact. Blair Waldorf will not be ignored. "What I mean is there's nothing they can do for you that you can't get from me".

That draws his attention. His eyebrow lifts as he tosses an apprising leer her direction. "You _are_ up for a number of games, I'll admit." He watches her face brighten at his concession, then laughs harshly. "But that's no substitute for experience."

Blair dismisses Chuck's words, hearing only their undertone. The swift swell of his trousers belies his derisive remarks to give him completely away. _What you get for wearing linen, jerk. Women wear it for the drape._

Blair knows too well that the game Chuck loves above any other, the one he'd find nearly irresistible, is asserting and maintaining control.

"That's bullshit, Bass." To underscore her point Blair rises to stand in front of his chair. Popping the top button of her V-neck cardigan, she runs her index finger along the intersection of the sweater and her skin as she leans over him, her breasts level with his eyes. "You shouldn't discount creativity." Another button pops as her finger lingers along the Italian lace of her now visible bra. Her breasts are a fraction away from his face. Close enough for her skin to register the change in his breathing. She releases button three.

His amusement is palpable but the bulge in his lap undeniable. "Are you telling me you're a natural slut, Waldorf? Here I thought you were trying to _repair _your reputation." He searches her face intently for signs that his remarks are dismantling her confidence.

_Keep trying to prove you're in charge. _Button four comes free_. I know I've got you by the short hairs_.

Undeterred, she gives him a throaty laugh, "You'd like to think so, wouldn't you Chuck?" Following the final button, Blair pulls the cardigan low on her shoulders without removing it. Her breasts, followed by her face, travel the length of his chest without making contact. "You know what a serious student I am. The right teacher makes all the difference". Her eyes hold his gaze through the heavy drape of her dark brown lashes as her body travels, nearly touching his chest, his legs.

She notices that he swallows hard as she lightly drags her manicure across the tops of his thighs. He tries to right himself in the chair but Blair pushes him back down.

"What? No snappy comeback, Chuck?" She rotates her bottom a feather's width from his groin until her back is to him. She straddles him, balancing on her Manolo's, still without contact. "That's so unlike you."

Blair arches her back, looking at him over her should as she teases her skirt across her pale thighs and higher to reveal Chuck's favorite red thong. When he reaches to strum the thong she slaps his hand away.

His eyes narrow. "Very cute, Blair. But all you've proven so far is that you can be alluring.". Chuck's smirk returns, confident that he's playing to her weakness. "You've always been a more than competent tease."

"Exactly." Blair turns her head to the opposite shoulder and grabs his eyes again. Removing her cardigan she lightly runs the garment along his thigh, his erection, the opposite thigh. Another throaty laugh spills from her as she watches his eyes tighten at her actions. He's trying hard to give nothing away but she knows all his tells.

She speaks quickly, before he has time to recover. "If you're going to do something, do it right". She rotates her hips again so that her left thigh grinds across his lap, followed by her ass and her right thigh. She's rewarded with a poorly suppressed moan. Punctuating her words with a repeated rotation Blair continues," And doing it right takes effort. Do your ho's put in the effort, Chuck?"

With the next rotation she turns around to face him, settling herself bit by bit onto his lap again. "Sure, you could _tel_l her what to do. Isn't it more fun to be with someone who already knows?" She twists one hard nipple through her bra. "Like knowing that you wouldn't want me naked right away. That sometimes lingerie is hotter than bare skin." Impossibly, she feels him become harder beneath her.

Her hips are as unrelenting as her reasoning. "Would her nipples get this hard for you, Chuck? Would you even think to notice?

His mouth comes open slightly as he loses the battle to control his breathing. Even Chuck Bass' infamous stamina can only withstand her assault so long.

Blair tastes triumph and persists, "See, I can even tell when you're getting close." She nudges her bra down her arms and reaches behind to remove it. "Your shoulders are tight. Your breath is so hot that your lungs can't pump it out fast enough and forget talking, let alone swallowing." She brushes her now naked breasts upwards against his chest as she increases the friction between them.

Chuck's eyes close involuntarily as a guttural, wanton "Blair" escapes him.

Blair realizes that their friction has created it's own want in her. "Would she see how turned on you are and get this wet for you? I know you can feel me through those flimsy slacks of yours. I know you can feel my heat all the way to your balls". She pushes the thong aside and begins to stroke her clit with hard, quick movements.

Chuck grabs her shoulders as his prolonged, staccato hiss fills her ears, ricocheting throughout her body. Her own climax is immediate and sends her soaring as the sticky wetness of his spunk bind their thighs together. They collapse into each other, sharing hard swallows and discordant breaths as their orgasms slowly subside.

She pushes herself upright with smug satisfaction. Buttoning her cardigan, Blair retrieves her new Fendi bag and readies herself to leave. She leans over Chuck once more to whisper, _"_Tell me you won't think of me every time you do _that_ again." A turn of her heel and she's gone.


End file.
